


Stay With Me, Don't Let Me Go, Because There's Nothing Left At All

by IcyMelxdy



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Drug Use, Hallucinations, Heavy Angst, Hurt Spencer Reid, Prison, Sad Ending, Schizophrenic Spencer Reid, Self-Harm, Suicide, im sorry, probably medically inaccurate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:28:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27721433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IcyMelxdy/pseuds/IcyMelxdy
Summary: “Hey, Doctor. Look at me.”He looked up as she was suddenly standing in front of him. She leaned in close enough their noses were touching, but he couldn’t feel her breath on his lips. His head twitched.“You lose.” Her voice was giddy and her eyes were bright.“I kn-know.”
Comments: 8
Kudos: 75





	Stay With Me, Don't Let Me Go, Because There's Nothing Left At All

**Author's Note:**

> **TRIGGER WARNINGS**  
> Suicide  
> Self Harm, Knives  
> Drug Use, Needles  
> Hallucinations  
> Blood  
> Prison
> 
> If any of these trigger you, please don't read.

Spencer was alone when he saw Elle again.

His apartment was dark, save for the moonlight and streetlights filtering through the window. but he could perfectly make out her features. She was as beautiful as he remembered her. Her hair was long and her holsters were empty.

There was clutter scattered around the floor, yet she knew exactly where to stand that her heels touched none of it.

She looked out of place, yet at the same time she looked like she belonged there.

The pair were engaged in an intense staring contest, neither willing to break. She was standing in the center of the room, her eyes transfixed on Spencer’s. He was sitting on the couch, feeling like a deer caught in headlights as he slowly retracted his hands from his messenger bag, but he never broke eye contact with Elle.

She wasn’t there for the Hankel incident, he doubted she even knew anything happened, but the Elle in front of him knew. She knew what he hid in there.

Spencer sighed and leaned back against the couch. “Is this one of those games where whoever speaks first loses?”

“I don’t know. Did you just lose?”

He said nothing in response.

She chuckled emotionlessly, hair falling into her eyes. “Funny. I lost a long time ago.”

He thought back to the Fisher King case, when Elle was shot by Randall Garner. Then he remembered Rebecca, who they had worked so hard to save, who Spencer had been blown up for, only for her to die later by Frank’s hands.

It wasn’t fair.

Elle brushed her hair back behind her ear as she ambled towards the couch, breaking eye contact for the first time to take in his appearance. His hair and clothes were disheveled, his hands were shaking, and his head would slightly twitch every so often.

Spencer watched as Elle made her way to the couch and sat down. She looked the same as she did the first year they worked together.

“Why are you here?”

She looked down at his messenger bag and back up at him.

“I’m not allowed to visit an old friend?”

Spencer rolled his eyes before he could stop himself.

“I guess that’s a no.” Her tone held no malice to it. It was almost teasing.

“Why are you here?” He tried again, trying to make his voice sound assertive, when in reality, he felt tired and afraid and he knew she could see right through him. She always could.

She chuckled and gestured to his messenger bag, her hand hanging in the air.

“Why do you think I’m here?”

Elle was here for one of two reasons. Either she’s going to stop him from causing any further damage to himself from his addiction or she’s going to encourage him and be the last thing he sees as he passes out from drug induced euphoria.

Judging by the fire in her eyes and the small, yet wicked, smile on her lips, he knows it’s the second option.

He grabbed the syringe and Dilaudid out of the secret compartment in his bag and filled the syringe with shaky hands.

“Ding ding ding! Give the boy a prize!”

“Shut up.” 

He grabbed the belt off the table in front of him, securing it around his upper arm with his teeth. He pressed the needle to his arm and was about to inject himself when-

“Hey, Doctor. Look at me.”

He looked up as she was suddenly standing in front of him. She leaned in close enough their noses were touching, but he couldn’t feel her breath on his lips. His head twitched.

“You lose.” Her voice was giddy and her eyes were bright.

“I kn-know.”

As he was falling unconscious, he noticed Elle’s hair was falling in front of her face again. He lifted his arm that felt like dead weight to brush it away, but she was too far out of his reach. She walked away as his arm fell and his eyes closed.

She wasn’t there when he woke up.

\--------

Spencer hadn’t seen Elle in months, but the initial possibility she could be right over his shoulder had him jumpy and skittish. It was enough for his team to turn their heads but no one could get a straight answer if anything was wrong.

“Hey, kid, you all good?”

“What? Uh, yeah. Yeah.”

“Spence, is everything okay?”

“Everything is fine, I promise.”

“Reid, is there something I should know?”

“Nope. Can I go now?”

Things seemed to be looking up. He kicked the drugs and hadn’t seen Elle since that night. He had been attending meetings and his paranoia had decreased.

He was feeling better.

That was, until he saw Gideon during one of his shares.

He was standing in the back of the room, hands in his pockets, staring right at Spencer.

He stumbled over his words and trailed off into a cough. Gideon’s head tilted and he raised his eyebrows.

Spencer’s eyes darted all over the room, looking for Elle, for anything, and ended up landing back on Gideon’s piercing stare. He looked the same as Spencer had remembered him.

He was aware that he had stopped talking and everyone was staring at him, but he only had eyes for Gideon.

Gideon made a motion with his hands, urging him to continue his share. Spencer’s head twitched.

He mumbled something akin to an excuse, turned around, and walked out of the building, the stares of nineteen other attendees burning into his back.

When he was sure he was out of everyone’s line of sight, he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding as he rubbed his palms into his eyes.

“Rough day?”

Spencer jumped out of his skin.

Gideon was standing right in front of him.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Yes, I would, actually.”

Gideon took a few steps toward Spencer, and Spencer pushed his back impossibly closer against the wall. He looked around desperately.

“Where’s Elle?”

Gideon chucked. “She’s not here. But don’t think you can deflect my question. That’s a classic move that I’ve seen plenty in my years.”

Spencer shook his head. “No. No. Th-This isn’t a game of chess.”

It hurt Spencer to say those words. He always enjoyed a good game of chess with the older man. Gideon seemed unaffected.

“Tell me about your day, Spencer.”

“I-I don’t want to.”

Gideon nodded his head solemnly. “That’s a shame.” Gideon backed off a few inches and Spencer felt like he could breathe again. He felt like running, but his feet were glued to the ground.

“Did you relapse?”

Spencer snapped his head up and met Gideon’s judgemental stare.

“What?”

“Well, the way you acted during your share. You started sweating, stumbling over your words, your eyes were unfocused, and your head twitched. If you ask me, those are the signs that someone’s been using.”

“B-but I haven’t been using. You know that.” Spencer pleaded.

“Then, what else could it be?” Gideon ambled to his side, not taking his eyes off Spencer’s.

Spencer didn’t answer. He looked down, trying to avoid Gideon’s eyes. He wasn’t as confident with Gideon as he was with Elle.

“Here’s a piece of advice. Control your head twitch.”

Spencer slid down the wall and buried his head in his hands. Everything fell apart so fast, he wasn’t prepared. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block everything out and make his brain stop, but that only seemed to make everything louder. Gideon, Elle, the whispers, the wind, his thoughts.

“I-I’m not crazy.” He quietly stuttered. There was no response.

Gideon was gone when he looked up.

Spencer looked around, but the older man was nowhere to be seen.

Calming down, Spencer realized he was close to hyperventilating, his skin was shiny with sweat and the skin on his forearm was bright red with scratch marks. He supposes that’s better than relapsing.

Taking a moment to compose himself, he stood up, straightened out his clothes, rubbed his face, and walked home.

He didn’t see Gideon the whole way back.

\--------

Spencer was in his father’s workplace. He was going to see his father again after seventeen years. As a murder suspect. Go figure.

Everything was quickly becoming too overwhelming and he had excused himself to the bathroom, knowing Morgan and Rossi were staring and talking about him as he walked away.

He splashed water on his face, trying to control his rapidly beating heart. He looked back up at his reflection in the mirror.

Elle was standing behind him.

He jumped and spun around, hands gripping the sink.

No one was there.

He took a few deep breaths and turned back around, staring down at the sink. He splashed his face again and grabbed a paper towel, drying his face and hands.

Spencer looked up at the mirror again and saw Elle, standing behind him with her arms crossed. Spencer held eye contact for a moment before the door to the bathroom suddenly opened and he inadvertently jumped.

He apologized to the building worker and the guy gave him a weird look before walking into a stall. Interactions like that didn’t faze him anymore.

Spencer walked to the exit, hesitating before turning around, seeing if Elle was there.

She wasn’t.

Spencer sighed and closed the door behind him, only to be greeted with the sight of his father from further down the hall.

Gideon was standing right behind him, waiting for Spencer.

Spencer held his head high as he walked over, ignoring Gideon’s stares and the million questions running through his head.

Why was Gideon here now? Why was Elle in the bathroom a moment ago? What do their presences mean? Would he see Elle again?

He caught the end of the conversation and jumped in.

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out.”

His father looked at him, taken aback that his son was there, talking to him.

“Hello, Dad.”

Gideon smirked. 

The group walked off to his dad’s office, except for Spencer who was watching Gideon. Gideon was waiting for Spencer to walk away first so his back would be turned. He didn’t move at first, staring him down vehemently while Gideon just looked relaxed and calm. He didn’t realize how concerning that would look to someone else, and was reminded when Morgan touched his shoulder to get his attention. Spencer jumped and let out a small yelp, backtracking a few steps.

“Woah, hey, hey. You okay, kid?”

“What?” Spencer looked back to where Gideon was, only to find he was gone, his head slightly twitching and eyes starting to search for him.

“Reid?”

Spencer looked back at Morgan, Morgan’s eyebrows furrowed in concern.

“Yeah. Yeah, e-everything’s fine. Just…” His sentence trailed off with a look towards his father’s retreating figure.

Morgan nodded but didn’t seem fully convinced. “Alright, kid. You would tell me if anything was wrong?”

“Yeah.” No.

It was enough to get Morgan off his back for the moment and Spencer was grateful for it. Morgan walked away first, Reid following, but not before he looked back over his shoulder one more time.

They walked in the office and Gideon was standing behind his father, smirking at Spencer.

Gideon didn’t leave his father’s side the rest of the case. Anytime Spencer saw his father, he saw Gideon. It didn’t matter there were other people in the room. It got worse when he was interrogating his father later.

When Spencer was losing his cool with his father, Gideon was almost cheering him on, looking proud and smiling.

When his mother was brought in and explaining what really happened with Riley Jenkins, his father was sitting on the edge of the desk. Gideon was in the desk chair with his feet on the desk.

He was trying his hardest to listen but it was difficult when Gideon kept reacting to everything they would say with an eyeroll or a chuckle of disbelief.

Spencer didn’t know why he thought his parents wouldn’t notice.

“Spencer? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything is f-fine, why?”

His parents shared a look. Spencer gulped.

His father took a seat next to him as his mother spoke.

“You know… you are getting around that age…”

Spencer nodded and looked away.

His father sighed.

“If you’re nervous, we could take you to a doctor-”

“I’m fine. Nothing’s been going on.” He replied, his voice taking on a tone somewhere between stern and angry. He didn’t appreciate his father saying something about this when he didn’t and wouldn’t even try to understand.

He also knew he would do his best to never see the man again if Gideon would be behind him every time. He would bet his father wasn’t going to try to see him again either, especially if he was just going to end up just like his mother.

His parents unwillingly dropped it and it came time to leave.

“You never stood a chance.” Gideon laughed as he saluted him a farewell, walking out of the office, following his father and leaving Spencer behind.

Spencer’s head twitched as he scratched his arm.

\--------

Emily was dead.

Emily was dead and Spencer was crying on JJ’s shoulder in the hospital.

Emily was dead and Spencer was crying on JJ’s shoulder in the hospital and he never got to say goodbye.

Yet, Emily was standing in front of him.

She was blurry through tears but it was definitely her. She was wearing the leather jacket Spencer had last seen her in and her bangs framed her face nicely. He squeezed his eyes shut and dug his head into the crook of JJ’s neck, crying harder. Her hands rested on his back and his head, trying to bring him some comfort.

It did nothing for him as he looked up from JJ’s shoulder again. Emily was closer than before, her hands wrung together and her lips turned up into a small smile.

JJ pulled back from the hug causing Spencer’s attention to suddenly snap to her. She said nothing to him as she walked away to go talk to Hotch behind closed doors. He watched her go, wiping his eyes, before turning back to Emily.

She walked to the edge of the hallway JJ had come from, placing her hand on her chest.

“Don’t worry about saying goodbye.” She walked toward him until her mouth was right by his ear. “I’ll be here for a while.”

He broke down even more, tears cascading down his face. His hand unconsciously went to his arm, scratching away, being forced to stop moments later when Morgan grabbed his wrists, saying something he couldn’t make out, and pulled him into a bear hug.

Spencer resisted at first, before giving up. He grabbed onto Morgan like his life depended on it and openly sobbed into his shoulder, ignoring how the sniffles and cries from his team increased in volume and intensity.

Too much was happening and he couldn’t comprehend it at all. Emily was dead. Morgan was whispering comforting words into his ear while holding him tightly. Emily was here. Spencer was shaking.

Morgan pulled away first, Spencer’s eyes going straight to the floor.

“Look at me, Reid.”

He didn’t want to. He didn’t want to see her again. He wanted to see Emily, alive and well.

“I need you to look at me.

Spencer sniffed and against his better judgement, looked up at Morgan. Emily wasn’t there anymore like he thought she would be.

“Let’s head back to the hotel, okay?”

Spencer nodded and turned back to the team in the waiting room, Morgan keeping an arm around his shoulders.

He took in everyone’s faces. Heartbroken, disbelieving, tear stained.

And then there was Emily.

She was standing in between Rossi and Ashley, studying the emotions that varied on their faces before looking back at Spencer.

“Rossi is angry. Ashley is upset. What are you?”

“I’m exhausted.”

“I know, kid.”

Everyone started to filter out of the room, Emily moving to stand on Spencer’s left side as Morgan stayed on his right.

He had to resist looking at her, because she was dead, no matter how very much alive the Emily next to him looked.

She sat next to him in the back of the SUV, not moving when everyone went into the hotel to get their stuff, and in front of him on the jet. At least on the jet, he had an excuse to stare ahead into the distance and not attract attention.

“What do you think the others would think if you started talking to me? Out loud?”

He didn’t answer.

“Oh, I get it. You’re still trying to protect your facade that nothing is wrong with you.”

His head twitched.

She leaned back in her seat and laughed. “I mean, you did talk to me back at the hospital. You didn’t mean to, but you did.” She leaned forward. “You messed up.”

He refused to say anything.

“Imagine if you said something you couldn’t pass off as a slip of the tongue or lie your way out of.”

She was testing him.

“You didn’t always use to be a good liar, but you improved after your addiction. Drugs change a person, and in your case, you learned how to deceive and lie.”

Her words stung, but all she got out of him was furrowed eyebrows and eyes full of anger. He said nothing.

She leaned back again. “Hmm. You are a tough nut to crack, my friend.”

Her calling him a friend made his anger boil more than her calling him an addict. He was an addict. He wasn’t her friend. She wasn’t really here. She was trying to hurt him. She was trying to make him hurt himself.

He wanted to tell her off, to shut up and go away, but no one was getting any sleep on the jet that night. The smallest disturbance would set them all off.

Spencer leaned back against the chair, pointedly looking out the window.

“Oh, I touched a nerve.”

Spencer sighed and closed his eyes, keeping his head turned toward the window. He just wanted everything to stop for five minutes. Was five minutes too much to ask for?

She was quiet for the moment being but he didn’t know how long that would last. Maybe he would fall asleep before she talked again but he doubted it seeing as he was very much not okay. He doesn’t remember the last time he had a decent, non drug induced sleep where he stayed asleep throughout the night. He would not be sleeping that way anytime soon.

“What, are you thinking about drugs now? I’m not good enough for you?”

He just wishes she would shut up.

\--------

Spencer didn’t use that night. He didn’t use that week, either. The cravings were strong but meetings weren’t helping. He stopped sharing after his encounter with Gideon. He didn’t want to see his mentor, standing there nonchalantly as if Spencer wasn’t dying inside.

He was grieving and craving. Those experiences never go well together.

He was sitting alone in his apartment. It had been two weeks since Emily’s death and Emily, Elle, and Gideon were nowhere to be seen. He was a little confused, yet relieved he hadn’t seen Emily. She was at her desk every time he went to work. She was in the conference room, walking around and profiling the team instead of the unsub. She would snag a seat on the jet that wasn’t necessarily close to him, but still in his line of sight to constantly remind him that she was there.

The temptation was strong but he couldn’t. He wouldn’t allow her to win. She didn’t control his life, no matter how much she tried.

He didn’t want to be alone.

Before he could do anything he would regret, he grabbed a jacket, his keys, and was out the door. JJ had told him to come to her if he needed anything. She would be there for him if he needed it.

The time from when Spencer left his apartment to the time he was standing in front of JJ’s door was a blur, spent focused on trying not to cry.

When he walked up JJ’s porch, he noticed the sun had gone down. He hesitated before knocking on the door, not wanting to interrupt JJ’s time with her family. He contemplated walking away and going back home but the overwhelming fear of being alone started crawling up his throat. He knocked on the door, stepping back and running a hand through his hair.

He waited a moment, contemplating leaving again. He was starting to turn on his heels as the door opened, JJ standing on the other side.

“Oh, my God. Spence.”

Spencer had no idea how much of a wreck he looked, but based on the concern plastered on JJ’s face, he didn’t look good.

“Hey-” His voice caught in his throat and the tears he had been working so hard to keep back started falling.

“Come here, come in.” JJ placed her hand on his back and ushered him in, closing the door behind him.

“Jayje, who was at the door?” Will asked rounding the corner, eyes slightly widening as he took in Spencer’s appearance.

Spencer buried his face in his hands and jacket to the best of his ability as JJ took Will to the side, speaking in hushed tones.

He was beginning to regret this decision and figured he should just go, he shouldn’t have intruded on JJ like this, it was unprofessional and unfair to her.

His thoughts of regret and guilt were interrupted as JJ touched his shoulder, causing him to look at her.

“Will’s taking Henry to his room. We have the living room. Come on.”

She took his hand, giving it an affectionate squeeze, leading him to the living room. He was staring down at his shoes, letting JJ guide him, until he heard someone clear their throat.

Sitting on the edge of the edge of JJ’s coffee table, was Emily. He rubbed his eyes with his free hand, stupidly hoping it would make her disappear.

JJ pulled him to the couch and sat him down, brushing his hair out of his face and pulling him in for a hug.

Emily strode over and sat in the free spot on the couch, in front of Spencer.

“Did you miss me?”

Spencer was so tired of this.

JJ pulled back. “Here, let me get you some water.”

He croaked out a thanks in response, and then it was just Spencer and Emily in the living room.

He looked up at her.

“Those are some serious bags under your eyes. Have you been sleeping?”

“You know I haven’t.” He hissed quietly at her.

She scooted closer to him.

“Still lying through your teeth, huh? Can’t risk JJ hearing you talking to me?”

Tears started streaming down his face again but he was too physically and mentally exhausted to do anything about it.

He dropped his head. “Please… just go away.” He quietly pleaded with her.

She chuckled and shook her head. “Can’t do that.”

His head twitched. “Why?”

“You tell me, Doctor.” She used his title as an insult, spitting it out with a scornful tone. She was saying he was too thickheaded to understand.

But he knew.

Ice clinking in glasses signaled JJ’s return. He looked up to see Emily stand up and reclaim her perch on the coffee table. JJ handed him his water and she sat down with her own.

His hand shook as he took sips. He was grateful for the quiet, even if it wouldn’t last.

JJ didn’t need to ask what was wrong and she did her best to console her grieving friend. She knew he was struggling with Emily’s death. He was obviously sleeping less, eating less, and talking less. This was the first time he reached out to her though, so she didn’t want to waste it.

There wasn’t much to be said on Spencer’s part though, because Spencer broke down into tears again once he heard Emily’s voice off to his side say, “Since you’re with JJ, I might as well tell you it’s your fault. You weren’t fast enough.”

JJ grabbed Spencer’s glass out of his hand and set both on the coffee table. She moved herself closer to Spencer, pulling him into a hug and pushing his head down on her shoulder.

He didn’t protest, wrapping his arms around her and accepting the comfort he so desperately wanted.

They stayed in that position for ten minutes, Spencer not pulling his head off JJ’s shoulder and JJ with his arms positioned tightly around the younger man’s torso. JJ wanted to let him get all his feelings and emotions out before she said anything. She knew he had been acting different lately and keeping his emotions bottled up inside. It was a bad habit of his that was detrimental to his health, but Spencer could be stubborn when he wanted to and didn’t break his habit, no matter how many times the others have tried to get past his walls.

Once his tears slowed and sobs quieted, he finally pulled his head off JJ’s shoulder. JJ grabbed a tissue and handed it to Spencer, who was using it to rub at his face and press against his eyes. 

JJ watched her broken friend. His eyes were puffy and bloodshot and his cheeks were red and tear stained.

“I-I don’t know what to do.”

“That’s okay.”

He sagged back into her couch, throwing an arm over his eyes in an attempt to ignore Emily’s triumphant smile.

“I just… I miss her so much and I don’t know how to deal with it.”

“That’s the least of your problems.”

“I miss her too, but you know what? We’ll deal with it together. I am so glad you came to me because I want to help you.” She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Let me help you.”

Spencer removed his arm from his face and made eye contact with Emily, the mischievous glint in her eyes saying it all.

“Yeah… okay.”

He turned to JJ to say the next part of his statement.

“I don’t want to be alone through this.”

“You won’t. I promise.”

They hugged again, Spencer releasing a deep breath and feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. It didn’t last long as Emily’s mocking tone was loud in his ears.

“Awww, how sweet.”

JJ walked Spencer to the door with her hand on his lower back. It was a welcome touch that kept him grounded and helped ignore Emily who stood on his other side.

She opened the door, Spencer walking outside and onto her porch. He turned around and faced JJ. Emily was standing behind her with a smirk on her lips.

“Don’t hesitate to come over if you need anything, okay?”

His eyes moved from JJ to Emily for a brief moment then back to JJ.

“Yeah, o-of course.”

A smile of relief graced JJ’s features.

“Great. Bye, Spence.”

“Bye.” He held his hand up to do his signature awkward wave.

As JJ closed the door, Emily remained right behind her, waving back at him while silently laughing through her smile. 

A chill ran down his spine. His head twitched as he turned around and walked away.

Emily was nowhere to be seen when he got home.

\--------

He had taken JJ up on her promise and cried on her shoulder more times than he would care to admit. In the past month and a half, he showed up at her house once or twice a week.

Every time JJ opened the door, Emily was standing right there behind her. He stared her down everytime he hugged JJ, and she always led the way for the two into the living room with a spring in her step.

She was too delighted about his misery.

This time at JJ’s house wasn’t too different. They hugged each other while he cried into her shoulder and exchanged meaningful words afterwards that left Spencer feeling a little lighter than when he entered.

He had learned how to ignore Emily throughout the weeks, but it was difficult. She always knew what to say to get under his skin.

“Sometimes I wonder if I would still be here if you had figured it out faster.”

“Lauren Reynolds is dead. This time it’ll stay that way.”

“It’s eating at you to keep me a secret from JJ, isn’t it?”

“At this point, you’re more of a liability than an asset.”

He was using JJ as more than a supportive presence and a shoulder to cry on. She was also a distraction from his cravings. He has two stashes, one in his apartment and one in his messenger bag. He never takes his messenger bag to JJ’s and she helps him forget for a moment, even if she doesn’t know.

Their meeting ended once again and JJ walked him to the door as always.

Every week, Emily would remain planted behind JJ, her purpose being to tease him that she would be there every time he came over for help, which she was. JJ closed the door and Emily stayed behind her, quirking her eyebrow at Spencer. He turned around, wanting to go home, and jumped two feet off the ground.

Emily was right in front of him. Her smile was taunting.

“What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” She clapped her hands and laughed at her terrible joke.

Spencer was breathing heavily, wrapping his arms around his stomach in a defensive stance.

“Very funny. What are you doing?”

“What? I can’t go home with my favorite genius?”

Spencer paled. He wanted nothing more than to retreat back into JJ’s warm embrace, but if he stayed on her porch too much longer, she would begin to suspect there was more beneath the surface he wasn’t telling him.

Reluctantly, he trudged his feet forward, maneuvering to not run into Emily, even though it wouldn’t have made a difference.

“Let’s go home.”

“It’s my home. N-not yours. You’re just an u-unwelcome guest I can’t sh-shake.”

She clutched her chest dramatically as they continued walking to his car.

“Ouch. Your words hurt.”

“And yours d-don’t?”

She chuckled. Spencer got in the car. He looked in the rearview mirror to see Emily in the backseat.

“You’re feisty now. I like it.”

He sighed and rolled his eyes, resting his forehead against the steering wheel. He twitched.

“You can’t be tired of me already. The party’s just getting started.”

“That’s what I-I’m afraid of.”

The drive home was stressful. Emily refused to sit still and shut up and Spencer wasn’t handling it well. He almost caused a wreck and had to pull over to collect himself. Emily ate it up like it was a stand up show. He all but ran to his apartment door the moment he put the car in park in front of his building.

His hand shook vigorously as he inserted his key into his lock and unlocked his door, opening it and stepping forward before stopping in his tracks.

Sitting on his couch was Elle. She was staring right at him, her body angled to face the door, as if she was expecting him. She definitely was.

“It’s been a while, Reid.”

He didn’t want to deal with this tonight, so he turned around, ready to leave again and crash somewhere for the night. 

He didn’t get very far as Emily was standing right there. She took a step forward which caused him to take a step back. She backed him into his apartment and he knew he wasn’t going anywhere that night.

Spencer closed and locked the door, feeling Emily and Elle’s stares on his back.

He faced them, eyes not knowing who to look at. He’s never dealt with two of them at the same time. To say he was scared is an understatement.

“Don’t mar your skin, you already have enough scars and marks.” Elle chastised him.

Spencer looked down, his brain catching up and properly registering the pain on his left arm, where the skin on his wrist was scratched raw. His nails broke the skin, causing it to bleed. There was skin under his nails and blood on his fingers. His hands started shaking.

“Poor thing. Come, sit with us on the couch. We’ll help you.” Emily said in a soothing voice, trying to guide him to the couch where Elle resided with his messenger bag.

He jerked his arms away before she could touch him.

“N-no. I-I can’t.”

He knew what they were going to try to make him do. They could be persuasive and he was nervous he would actually do it.

“Reid, your head is twitching and your arm is in pain. You know this will help.” Elle added, scooting over so there would be room for the three of them.

“N-no. I n-need to bandage my wr-wrist.” Spencer weakly argued. He knew they wouldn’t listen.

“No, you don’t. You need to get high. Forget about all of it for a while. It’s been too long since the last time.”

Spencer shook his head. “I don’t want to.” He was almost inaudible.

“I promise it will help. Come on, sit with us.”

Emily made her way over to the couch, leaving the middle seat open for him.

He wanted to run, to leave while he had his sobriety. His arm was still bleeding and he should really take care of it but he couldn’t find the inner strength needed to move his feet towards the bathroom.

They would be upset if he went to the bathroom.

Spencer looked at Emily, Elle, then the empty seat between them. He tried again to make them stop.

“Please don’t m-make me.”

“Why not? You need it. You want it. I know the cravings have been bad, worse than they’ve ever been, in fact. This will make them stop.” Elle’s voice was loud and excited in his ears.

Spencer did want it. He couldn’t deny he really did want it. 

“I can see the gears turning in your brain. Let me help them turn faster. This will help you. This will help you more than your Drug Addicts Anonymous meetings and your meetings with JJ have been. I promise.” Emily spoke her truths.

He took a sharp inhale at the mentions of his many different meetings. The more he thought about it, the more he realized Emily was right. Drug Addicts Anonymous hadn’t helped since he had seen Gideon the first time. It had only made the cravings stronger. He had become closed off to the fellow attendees and didn’t speak to his sponsor unless he had to. His meetings with JJ helped to pick him up a little, but then he remembered Emily would be there, watching and listening to them. She always had a snide remark to say that she knew would hit home. The outcome was always the same. Show up, cry, leave, repeat. He was tired of it. He was tired in general.

Then he remembered his first meeting with Elle. He had shot up and he didn’t see her for months. What’s to say the result wouldn’t repeat itself?

Desperate for some relief, he slowly made his way to the couch. He didn’t entirely trust them and he was not oblivious to how Elle and Emily’s smiles lit up in the darkness.

Spencer moved to avoid walking into Emily’s legs and grabbed the messenger bag in his spot before sitting down.

He looked between Elle and Emily once, both urging him to open his bag and take what he wanted, before looking at the bag in his hands.

If he were thinking rationally, he would’ve known this was a terrible idea. He was throwing away his sobriety when he could easily go see JJ again or Morgan. Neither of them would ever send him away.

Too bad he wasn’t thinking rationally.

Spencer ruffled through the contents before finding the secret compartment, opening it up and grabbing the unused syringe and bottle of Dilaudid. He set the bag down on the table behind him before popping the cap off the syringe and filling it up to his usual dose.

“What are you doing? You need more.” Spencer looked at Elle like she was crazy.

“This is e-enough.”

Elle shook her head. “Trust me. Add a little more. You need it.”

He looked to Emily for confirmation. She nodded her head once.

Spencer’s jaw went slack. He didn’t know what to do.

“Hey. Don’t you want your hands to stop shaking and your head to stop twitching?” Elle asked with a commanding and assertive tone. She pointed to the drugs in his hands. “That’s how. Listen to me and do it.”

Spencer flinched at her words and actions and quickly added more to the syringe, flicking the needle. He set the bottle and syringe down to pull up his sleeve and to undo his belt, tying it on his upper arm as a tourniquet. Once his teeth had tightly secured it, he picked the syringe back up.

“You’re so close. You’re so close to getting better.” Emily’s voice was a complete parallel to Elle’s. She sounded almost motherly. Spencer wanted to believe her.

“Yeah.”

Spencer lifted the syringe to his arm with a shaky hand, settling it against a vein. He took a deep breath and pushed the needle in, exhaling as he slowly injected himself.

His head fell against the couch, lolling to the side, his vision swimming as the effects of the Dilaudid hit. The weight of his head caused his upper body to fall onto the couch entirely, his arm hanging off the side. His legs followed his torso, almost bouncing onto the couch.

He could hear muffled voices in the background and see two figures standing in the distance. His clouded mind told him it was Emily and Elle. Maybe they were finally leaving now and he could get some sleep.

They looked in his direction and started walking towards him. Emily said something to him that he didn’t register, Elle doing the same, before they were out of his line of sight. He wasn’t sure if his eyes were closed or if it was just super dark in his apartment, but he didn’t see them anymore, and that was what mattered to him in that moment.

It was sad, really. He always thought Emily and Elle would’ve been great friends if they had met.

\--------

Spencer was startled awake by the sound of his cell phone’s incessant ringing. He harshly gasped when he woke, causing him to have a coughing fit, which caused his head to react to his pounding headache.

He tried to open his eyes but instantly had to shut them again. The sun filtering through the curtains was way too bright for him right then.

The ringing stopped, which helped him try to figure out what had happened the night before.

Spencer tried to sit up, hissing when his head opposed his movement. He laid back down on the couch, breathing through the pain. He tried to remember what had happened the night before, his headache not doing him any favors.

He felt around blindly on the couch with his hand and the floor with his foot for any indication of what he had done. There was a slight clinking sound coming from his right arm. He used his left arm and felt his bicep, feeling a belt secured around it. He pulled it off and weakly threw it away, ignoring what it possibly meant because he didn’t want to believe it.

He kicked something on the ground, so he bent down slowly, eyes closed, to pick it up.

He picked up the mystery object and felt it, trying to connect it to a memory.

A syringe.

He flinched and coughed as the memories came back. Emily and Elle. His arm. Elle convinced him to take more than he was used to. Suddenly, the headache and coughing fits made sense. Spencer groaned and slung his left arm over his eyes, intensely hating himself for being so weak.

There was a weird texture against his eyelids from his arm. He pulled his arm away and squinted. There was a mess of dried blood, scabs, and abrasions on his wrist. He remembered distant pain and skin under his nails. He could tell his scratching was focused on his wrist based on where the abrasions were and how deep they were.

His phone rang again, disrupting the quiet, and he slung his hands over his ears, trying to block out the grating noise before he belatedly realized it was a work day and he was probably very late and hadn’t been answering anyone’s calls.

That wasn’t good.

Squinting, he tried to locate where the sound was coming from, sticking his hand out in its general direction. He found it sitting on the coffee table and didn’t bother to look at the caller ID before answering.

“Hello?” His voice was scratchy.

“Reid?” Morgan’s voice reverberated in his ears. He pulled the phone away from his ear and moaned in pain.

“Woah, are you okay?” Morgan’s voice was quieter from where Spencer was holding his phone, but still too loud for his liking. He really needed some headache medication or something.

“Uh…” Spencer didn’t know what to say. If he said yes, Morgan wouldn’t believe him. If he said no, they might find out what he did.

“Reid, are you sick?” Morgan asked, unintentionally giving Spencer an out.

“Yeah. It came on suddenly last night.” The coughing fit that followed those words was not planned, but it added to his lie.

“All right, kid. You want me to tell Hotch you’re taking a sick day?”

“Yes.” He rasped out.

“Okay, but before I do, what are you sick with?” He wasn’t sure if Morgan was onto him or if he was genuinely asking.

“Based on my symptoms, it’s a bad cold. I’ve got a headache, a sore throat, a stuffy nose, a fever, and body aches.” Spencer was sure he sounded convincing enough. He didn’t really have to try as he did feel awful, but he had to sell the symptoms as the truth. He lied about the stuffy nose and fever specifically. 

There was silence on the other line for a few seconds.

“Doesn’t sound fun.”

“It’s not.”

“Get better, kid.”

Spencer gritted his teeth as his head started pounding more. He pushed his left palm against his eye in an attempt to alleviate the pain and tried to speak as clearly as possible. His wrist didn’t look any better the second time when he opened his eyes again.

“I’ll try and be back tomorrow.”

“Don’t push yourself. Okay, I gotta go. We thankfully don’t have a case today but there’s a lot of paperwork. Bye, Pretty Boy.”

“Bye.” Spencer whispered as he hung up the phone, feeling his heart physically drop to his toes from his nickname. He lied to Morgan. He lied about something terrible to Morgan. He felt awful, physically, mentally, and all over. He felt like he was going to throw up.

That wasn’t the first time he had lied to Morgan about something drug related, but the last time he did it should’ve been the last. He had been working so hard to be more truthful and open with Morgan, with his team. And now, all that progress was gone. If he was being honest, that progress was definitely gone the first time he saw Elle. He didn’t like how easy it was to fall back into old habits, but what is an addict to do? Morgan would be so disappointed.

He pushed himself to sit up, regretting his choices that led him to this point. He tried to stand up, only to fall back down onto the couch from a combination of nausea, his pounding head, and his legs giving out from under him.

How much did he take?

It shouldn’t be a surprise he’s this messed up afterwards. He had been sober for over a year and relapsed with more than his usual dose when he had been repeatedly using.

For being a genius, Spencer could sure be an idiot.

The sound of clapping caused him to push his hands over his ears. The clapping was coming from the door, so he angled his body and opened his eyes ever so slightly so he was squinting.

There was a woman there. He couldn’t tell who it was, but he didn’t need to when she spoke.

“I was right about the drugs making you a better liar. That was great. Very convincing.”

Spencer squeezed his eyes shut and curled into a ball onto the couch, resisting how much he wanted to cry. Crying would only make his head and body hurt worse and if the events from earlier were any indication, he would not be standing to get medicine or first aid anytime soon.

He really messed up.

Spencer went back to work the next day. No one questioned his sweaty face or red eyes. They all assumed he was getting over his cold. That was the first time he was okay with JJ not being there anymore as she surely would’ve called him out.

Strangely, no one questioned the bandages on his wrist. His sleeve kept falling down and even when he pulled it up white would still peek out. He caught Morgan eyeing him constantly, but he never stepped forward to pry for answers.

He felt conflicted on if he should feel good or twisted that no one on his team of profilers is any the wiser with what’s really going on with him. Does that mean he’s really good at lying and hiding or that they’re not as good as they claim to be?

Spencer didn’t want to know the answer to that question.

After that night, the following month felt like a cycle that couldn’t be broken to Spencer. 

Emily stopped hanging around her old desk at work, but she never missed a single meeting between Spencer and JJ. JJ always accepted Spencer into her house with open arms, always the supporting presence and shoulder to cry on.

She didn’t need to know there was so much more he was crying about than just Emily’s death. He was definitely still bitter and upset over her, but it was better for everyone if she didn’t know he was crying because Emily was right there and she couldn’t see her.

Emily also was in his home on the rough nights. Those nights are when Elle showed up too. He always tried to defend himself and argue that he didn’t want it, but the pair could always see through any weak argument he made. Their words always sounded logical at the time, but the morning after was always a pain. He hated that it got easier once his body got used to the drugs again.

He would still go to Drug Addicts Anonymous meetings, but he never found the courage to share after his run-in with Gideon. He was still afraid Gideon would be standing in the back of the room like the first time, with his judgemental stare. It was enough to deal with Emily and Elle, he didn’t want to face the older man if he didn’t have to. It was unreasonable thinking, but he didn’t want to risk it.

He didn’t want to rely on the drugs, but everything hurt and nothing was okay and he always felt like he was drowning. The Dilaudid gave him a break from that, even if he didn’t remember anything after shooting up. He remembers the numb feeling. That feeling always felt comforting, more so than real life.

Spencer knew his solution was artificial, that in the end, he would cause more damage to his body to couple with his deteriorating mental health, but he couldn’t stop. It wasn’t from a lack of trying, either. He tried to stop, but Emily and Elle would always be there with their enticing words and his messenger bag. He hated how powerless he felt against them.

He told his mother he wasn’t weak and she said she knew. She’s the smartest woman he knows. Why is he proving her wrong?

\--------

The team was gathered in the conference room, listening to Hotch as he made his speech, JJ standing beside him.

The information bomb he dropped on everyone took its time absorbing into Spencer’s brain.

They buried Emily. She couldn’t be alive.

Emily was standing between Hotch and JJ, her face showing displeasure at what their Unit Chief was saying. She looked at Spencer, using her facial expressions to tell him not to believe Hotch.

Spencer didn’t know what to believe.

Until Garcia gasped and he turned around and saw Emily behind him, in clothes different than her leather jacket and her bangs missing.

Emily was alive.

He turned back around to face Hotch and JJ. She wasn’t standing between them anymore.

Spencer had to rub his eyes to make sure this was really happening. She didn’t reappear.

He turned behind him to face Emily once more and stood up, moving forward to hug her. He could touch her, he could feel her hair tickle his face and her chest rise and fall as she breathed. She was real. She was alive.

He was so happy, if not confused, that she was alive.

Emily began spouting off information and answers to their questions about the case. Spencer voiced his suggestions, thankful for the case to keep his mind occupied so he didn’t have to think too hard about how she was here and not dead like he had been made to believe for months.

He pushed down his emotions, questions and anxiety, trying his hardest not to think about the situation at all, until all four international criminals were apprehended and Declan was safe with them.

The team had shot down Doyle’s assailants, but only after the woman shot Doyle, killing him. Luckily, everyone plus Declan had left unscathed.

Once the case was wrapped up and closed and Declan was put somewhere safe, Garcia suggested drinks to celebrate getting Emily back. Everyone except Morgan and Spencer took part. He assumed Morgan didn’t go because he was angry about the initial revelation, and most likely still was. Spencer didn’t know what he was feeling about it. He just wanted to be alone to be able to effectively think and sort through his emotions.

Once he made his way into his apartment, he all but crashed onto the couch, feeling exhaustion and anxiety wash over him. He combed through every memory from the past ten weeks, from her proclaimed death to now. The more he thought about it, the more he figured out what he was feeling.

Anger.

Red hot anger.

He was made to believe that another person he loved had left him.

He was feeling guilty over Emily’s death for over two months when she had never died.

When Emily appeared, she never left him alone.

She was telling him why he should be guilty, why it was all his fault.

He relapsed over the insufferable pain and guilt.

He had started having to lie to cover his tracks again.

He cried to JJ for ten weeks when she knew the whole time.

That last one made Spencer sit up straight. His best friend knew since the first time he cried on her shoulder at the hospital and didn’t tell him. She could’ve saved him so much pain and trauma had she did.

It felt like a punch to the gut. Emily could’ve left him alone so long ago, but no. He had to suffer more because of Hotch and JJ’s choice.

It wasn’t even his choice.

“You’re angry. That’s different. Usually you’re just scared.” Any other day, Spencer would’ve put up with Elle’s degrading words, but not that day.

“Leave m-me alone.” He glared her down from the other side of the coffee table. She was standing with a smirk on her face and her hands on her hips.

“No. I want to know why you’re angry.” She was baiting him.

“You’re smart. You f-figure it out.”

She shook her head and moved to sit down next to him, Spencer scooting away.

“No. I want to hear you say it.”

Spencer’s back sagged against the couch. He should’ve gotten out of the apartment. He should’ve gone to Morgan because JJ had lost his trust for the time being. Morgan would understand what he was feeling. Unfortunately, Elle was there and he wasn’t.

“Why did JJ n-never tell me? Sh-she knew since the hospital! She had t-ten weeks to tell m-me the truth a-and she didn’t. I was put through so much pain and trauma a-and guilt and now I find out i-it didn’t have to b-be that way? ”

He rubbed his face with his hands.

“It was never my ch-choice to go through this. That choice was m-made for me a-and they don’t even regret it. None of them have any idea wh-what I go through on a d-daily basis and this, their choice, only m-made it worse. I’m tired of e-everyone thinking th-they know what’s b-best for me.” Spencer’s voice increased in volume with every word. He ran his fingers through his hair almost desperately, not noticing the way Elle’s smile brightened.

“I felt so g-guilty and helpless th-that I relapsed. I f-fell back into old ha-habits and I hate it.” Spencer let out a watery chuckle and shoved his face into his hands. “I’m s-stuck in the downward s-spiral again and I-I don’t know how to g-get out of it. I hate it.”

He took a moment to calm down before continuing.

“Emily didn’t d-deserve to have that ha-happen to her, but neither did w-we. Neither did I. I tried so ha-hard and where d-did it get me? I’m talking to s-someone who’s not even h-here.”

He heard Elle’s heels clacking against his floor as she moved to sit next to him on the couch.

“It’s not f-fair.”

“You’re right. It’s not fair. So why don’t you do something about it?” Elle asked looking wistfully towards his bedroom.

It didn’t take a genius to know what Elle was referring to.

“I d-don’t want to.”

“You say that every time. You know how this ends.”

Spencer sighed. He let his head hang low while hunching over, his leg bouncing.

“Leave me a-alone.”

“No.”

“Why n-not?”

“Have you learned nothing from our time together?”

Spencer didn’t answer.

“Listen. We are going to go to your bedroom. You are going to pull out your hidden stash. You are going to get high and forget about your anger. It always makes you feel better.”

“And then it’s a-always worse a-afterwards.”

Elle huffed. “You’re being a killjoy. Come on, it’ll be fun. I can see you considering it.”

Spencer felt his resolve cracking. “I-I’m not.”

He knew she could see right through him.

“You’ll forget about it all. You’ll forget about her and me and the anger and how you were deceived again. They forced your hand. This is all you’ve got now.”

He really hated when their words made sense. He should know better than to argue with Elle because she always wins. She always knows what to say to get him to give in to his vulnerability.

“You’d stick it to them. You’d be saying, ‘Look what you made me do. This is your fault, not mine.’”

Spencer knew that was an excuse, but all he does nowadays is make excuses for his behavior and actions. He makes excuses for his shaking hands and his head twitch. He’s amazed Hotch or Morgan haven’t shoved him into any room with a lock and grilled him for answers for what was wrong with him.

He wouldn’t know what to tell them, where to even begin.

Against his better judgement, Spencer listened to Elle and made his way to his bedroom. Elle was following him, as giddy as a child on Christmas Day.

He worked through the routine while Elle sat on his bed, watching him. He pulled the bottle and syringe out of its hidden compartment in his drawer, tightened his belt over his bicep, and sat down next to Elle, whose smile was bright enough to act in place of a lightbulb.

He hated when she smiled like that.

His body fell back against his bed. He might’ve fallen to the floor. He didn’t know. What he did know was Elle was right. The numbness was better than the anger.

She was the last thing he saw when he blacked out.

He was aggressively startled awake hours later by his alarm, accidentally hitting his head against the wall he was sitting against. His fogged up mind told him it was his 6 AM alarm and that he needed to go to work.

He was lucky enough to experience that one second of peace and bliss where he forgot everything when he first woke up, then everything came crashing back once again.

Emily. Elle. Anger. Drugs.

The sunlight filtering in through his curtains was bearable and he opened his eyes, not liking what he saw.

His bedroom was in disarray. Drawers were open, clothes were strewn everywhere, and the bedsheets were pulled and scattered over the bed.

He was wearing the same clothes from the other day but they were entirely disheveled and his hair was a mess. He didn’t want to imagine how dark the bags under his eyes were.

What captured his attention was the sunlight reflecting off something next to him, causing a glare in his eye.

He looked down to his right and felt horror crawl up his throat.

There was a knife in his hand and dried blood on the carpet.

He threw the weapon away with unexpected force, wincing when it clattered against the wall. Dried blood reflected off the blade.

Much more alert now but still disoriented, Spencer put it together that blood means injury. Where did he hurt himself?

His question was answered when he pulled his right leg in to stand up, and a groan of pain escaped his lips.

There was one long cut on the side of his calf. The cut itself wasn’t too deep, but deep enough that the dizziness he felt was explained by blood loss.

The fear he felt at that moment was too much to be put into words. He knew it wasn’t the Dilaudid that had caused him to hurt himself, but the drugs did cause his gaps in his memory. He had no recollection of cutting himself with that knife. He had no recollection of moving to get a knife at all. The last thing he remembered was falling on the floor but he didn’t remember passing out. And now it’s suddenly 6 am and his thigh is maimed.

He buried his face in his hands and his heart was racing. This was bad. This was really bad and he didn’t know what to do and he didn’t have anyone to go to.

Spencer forced himself to calm down. He had to take care of his injury even if it would hurt a lot to move at all.

He pulled his legs inward and braced himself against the wall to stand up. His leg was screaming at him to not move but he pressed forward.

He took one step before falling forward, hitting the ground ungracefully. He registered something warm beginning to trail down his leg. His cut was bleeding again.

Spencer tried to think of where his cane was. It didn’t matter because it wasn’t in the bedroom, anyway. He would get there faster crawling than making two trips to get his cane then go to the bathroom.

He pushed himself over onto his back and sat up, ignoring his throbbing thigh. He grabbed the bed and hoisted himself up, putting all his weight on his left leg. He took small, careful steps utilizing his left leg and keeping his balance by using the bed, the nightstand, and the walls.

He eventually made it to the bathroom, pulled out the first aid kit he kept under the sink plus a towel hanging on the wall and sat on the floor against the bathtub.

Spencer pulled his ruined pant leg up and pressed the towel against the gash, biting his lip to keep from whimpering or hissing in pain. He sanitized the wound, which wasn’t any less painful, then applied a thin layer of petroleum jelly and gauze to the cut, watching as the white gauze started to stain red. He taped his calf with medical adhesive tape, trapping the gauze against his aching calf.

His wound was properly dressed, but the other problem remained of how he was to move and get through the workday without anyone suspecting anything.

“Wow, you had quite a night last night.” Gideon’s voice filtered above him. He looked up, watching his mentor as he gazed around Spencer’s bathroom. “That cut on your leg is really something.”

Spencer had made up his mind.

He pushed himself up and half limped, half hopped on one leg out of the bathroom, ignoring Gideon. As he passed back through his bedroom again, Gideon spoke.

“Huh. I bet you don’t even remember what happened last night. It’s not like I’d tell you, though. It’s your own fault for relapsing.”

Gideon’s words stung as they were a direct opposite of what Elle had told him the night before, but he had to focus on finding his phone.

Once he found it, he laid down on the couch, slinging an arm over his eyes so he wouldn’t have to watch Gideon amble around as if he owned the place.

Spencer dialed and waited for him to pick up.

“Hotchner.”

“Hey, Hotch.” Spencer pulled out his go to sick voice. He had regrettably gotten very good at it as he had needed to lie more and more often recently. He hated it.

“Reid? What’s going on?”

This part was always the hardest.

“I need to take a sick day or two. I ordered Thai food last night and it was contaminated. I’ve been up throughout the night being sick.”

Hotch was silent for a moment before sighing.

“Reid. You’ve taken more sick days than usual recently. You would use to push yourself to come to work with the flu, and now suddenly you’ve taken more sick days than anyone else on the team in the past month. Are you sure it’s food poisoning or is it something else?”

While the others would sometimes forget how good Spencer was at his job, he was also guilty of forgetting about their skills.

“I’m sure it’s food poisoning, Hotch. Do I need to go into detail?” He asked with attitude but he didn’t care. It was better this way so no one would find out the truth. He wasn’t sure they’d be able to handle the truth.

Hotch sighed again. Spencer could almost hear his eyebrows furrowing and him rubbing his eyes on the other line. “Fine. See you tomorrow.”

Spencer wasn’t able to say bye before Hotch hung up.

He didn’t think it was possible to feel worse than the night before, but he was wrong.

Gideon chuckled off to the side somewhere. “Wow. Lying to your unit chief, your boss. That’s something I never thought I’d see again. I bet you’ve been lying to everyone else too. Whatever happened to friendship?” He paused a moment before continuing. “I find it funny you’re mad at JJ for lying to you, but you’re lying to her and everyone else too.”

Gideon walked over to look at Spencer from behind the couch.

“You want to know something else though? You are sick. You are sick and it’s only been getting worse. Your intelligence isn’t going to get you out of this. I also thought I told you to control that head twitch.”

Spencer didn’t know when he started crying.

\--------

Spencer had been pointedly avoiding Emily, JJ, and Hotch since he came back from his “sick” day.

That had been a week ago and he was still angry with all of them, JJ the most. He didn’t talk to them unless he needed to.

The team had been assigned a case in Oklahoma and Spencer had been paired with JJ a good duration of it. He couldn’t stop himself from making snappy remarks at her, but in his mind, she deserved it.

She never had to suffer through the feeling of losing Emily. She never had to feel the pain and guilt he and the others did.

He often second guessed himself though, Gideon’s words playing over and over in his mind. He didn’t want to admit he was right, that it was unfair to be mad at JJ for lying when he had been lying constantly himself.

At least he didn’t lie about anyone’s death. But what he was lying about could cause his own death and it would be real.

Spencer found it was easier to just be angry and not focus on if he was a hypocrite or not.

The team had just finished giving the profile and Spencer walked to the conference room with a brisk pace, aware that JJ was following him.

She tried to talk to him about it, but he blew her off for the umpteenth time that day. She was fed up with it by then.

She insulted his profiling skills. She really thought he was angry with her because he wasn’t a good enough profiler to detect her’s and Hotch’s deception.

Spencer could’ve laughed if he wasn’t so bitter.

“Jennifer, listen, the only reason you were able to manage my perceptions is because I trusted you. I came to your house for ten weeks straight crying over the loss of a friend, and not once did you have the decency to tell me the truth.”

“I couldn’t.”

“You couldn’t or wouldn’t?”

“No, I couldn’t.”

What was the harm in telling him the truth? He didn’t have to learn her identities or contact her. The knowledge she was alive would’ve been enough.

He also couldn’t understand why everyone else had calmed down and accepted the fact that they were lied to and deceived for months. He guesses they weren’t as affected by it as he was. Thinking about it more, he realized that was true.

They didn’t see her everyday while she was supposedly dead. They didn’t relapse and fall back into bad habits. All the more reason to be angry at JJ and Hotch for lying.

“Look, I’m sorry I lied to you for those ten weeks. While I couldn’t tell you the truth, I still wanted to be your friend and support you the best I could. I wish we could’ve handled it better and saved everyone the pain I’m sure was extensive, but we didn’t and you paid the price. I’m really sorry, Spence.”

“Yeah, sure.” He grabbed a file and was starting to walk out when her voice called out after him.

“Why are you so angry about this? It’s not like you started taking Dilaudid again!”

Her claim stopped him in his tracks. His shoulders tensed and the papers crinkled in his hands. He took a step back and turned back over his shoulder to look her in the eye, pain and anger ever present in his stare. Her eyes widened in realization and her jaw dropped.

“...Right? You didn’t...right?” There was fear and desperation in her voice.

“I have to go.” He turned back around and walked toward the rest of the team who was watching them. He was sure they heard everything as their faces weren’t exactly discrete. He dropped the file on the table next to Hotch and turned to walk away, when a hand grabbed his wrist. It was Morgan.

“Where are you going?”

“Anywhere but here.” He kept his gaze trained on the ground in front of him and his voice stable.

“Oh, no, you’re not.”

Spencer really didn’t want to do this, in front of an entire police department no less.

“Morgan, let him go. It’s not the time or place.” Hotch ordered.

Morgan reluctantly let Spencer’s wrist go but he wasn’t out of the bear trap yet. “But don’t think we’re not talking about this later.”

Spencer couldn’t bring himself to meet any of their eyes as he took a few steps backwards before turning around and walking down a hallway. He felt their stares on his back and heard sniffles he was pretty sure belonged to JJ.

He turned down another hallway and was greeted with an exit from the building. He didn’t hesitate before leaving, wanting to leave the suffocating atmosphere behind. There was a bench to the left of the door so he walked over there and sat down, putting his head in his hands and just breathing.

He worked so hard to keep that secret and he blew it in a few seconds. At least she now knows some of the pain she put him through. He wants his team to be there, to help him through it this time, but he knows that can’t happen. If any of them get too close, he will slip up or someone will figure out his other secret.

He can kick the drugs. He can’t kick the mental illness.

“You’ve really screwed yourself this time.”

Spencer looked to his left to see Ashley standing there. She was the last face he ever expected to see, if at all. They weren’t that close, but she was an asset to the team the time she was with them.

Spencer let out a bitter chuckle. “It was bound to ha-happen eventually.”

Ashley moved to sit down next to him on the bench.

“Yeah. You keep too many secrets and too much trauma inside. Even geniuses slip up. If you can even call yourself a genius anymore.”

“What’s that s-supposed to mean? I-I was angry. That’s why I s-slipped.”

Ashley scoffed. “Yeah, sure. This time. Think back. You mumble to yourself. Your head twitches. You’ve got scratch marks on your wrists. You know they suspect something’s wrong, something deeper than your drug problem, and maybe Hotch will get the answers he’s looking for when you two talk later.”

Spencer rolled his eyes and rubbed his face. This is the second time Ashley’s technically been a replacement for Emily. He would laugh if he didn’t think she was right.

“Don’t even get me started on your headaches.”

Spencer sighed. “I w-won’t.”

A tense atmosphere followed Spencer wherever he went. The team didn’t really try to talk to him but he figured that was he made it painstakingly clear he didn’t want to.

Despite the tension, the team worked in fluidity like they always do during the case. He just happened to notice when someone would glance at him for a little too long.

Hotch cornered Spencer in his hotel room at the end of the day while the team was at dinner. Their talk went about as well as expected.

There was a long silence before either said anything. Hotch broke the silence with, “Let me see your arm.”

It was then Spencer knew Ashley was right and he was really screwed.

He didn’t fail to notice how Ashley was in the room with them, standing with her arms crossed and not taking her eyes off Spencer. She was almost daring him to slip up, to tell the truth for once.

Spencer looked down before shoving his arm toward Hotch, sleeve rolled down. If Hotch wanted answers, he would have to get them himself.

Hotch looked at Spencer’s arm then back up at Spencer. He grabbed Spencer’s hand to keep his arm steady before moving his free hand to roll Spencer’s sleeve up.

His hand hung in the air and Spencer was sure he was hearing both of their heartbeats pounding in his ears.

They both knew this would mean the end of Spencer’s career, his life, in the BAU. They couldn’t have an unreliable drug addict in the field. But even if he did relapse, Hotch didn’t want to discharge the agent.

Hotch dropped his hand and Spencer’s with a heavy sigh.

“Listen to me. I am going to help you this time around. Technically, you didn’t admit to relapsing or using and I didn’t see anything. You’re going to get clean and your position here won’t be compromised. Do you understand?”

Spencer looked over Hotch’s shoulder at Ashley, who looked visibly disappointed by the unexpected turn of events. He slightly smirked before dropping it and looked back at Hotch who was waiting for an answer.

“I-Is that the truth or are you lying to me again?”

Hotch blanched before his usually stoic face morphed into a guilty expression, suddenly finding the wall fascinating. He had no comeback for Spencer’s bold question.

Spencer thought over his options before sighing. He didn’t have much of a choice.

“Hotch.” He waited until Hotch looked back at him before continuing.

“I-I’ll accept your help. I want out o-of this problem I’ve f-found myself in. I-I can’t do it alone.” He hoped his stutter would pass off as fear from being cornered or anxiety from admitting he needs help or even lingering grief from the past few months. He knew he didn’t fall short of the third option.

Hotch grabbed his shoulder, squeezing affectionately. He refuses to lose his youngest agent to the evil that is always lurking in the corner of their eyes.

“I believe you, but first I have to know. Do you have any with you?”

Spencer shook his head no and that was the truth. He had run out of the stash in his messenger bad and had been living off the stash in his bedroom. He had been too preoccupied with everything else to even think about getting a refill somewhere.

In hindsight, that was probably a good thing.

Hotch eyed his messenger bag, not believing him. Spencer wouldn’t believe himself either.

His head twitched when Hotch looked back up at him.

Spencer took the initiative and emptied his bag of its contents. Pens, pencils, journals, books, crossword puzzles, and other miscellaneous items fell out but no syringes or drugs.

Hotch didn’t have to know about the secret compartment that was empty, anyway.

Hotch reeled back, looking Spencer in the eye again and giving a slight nod of his head. He knew Hotch would be keeping a watchful eye on him, but that was better than the alternative.

Spencer put his belongings back into his bag, feeling Hotch’s eyes on him. He knew he was planning on what to do, how to help Spencer. Spencer knew what he said, but he just has to remember not to let the older man get too close. He didn’t know what could happen.

Hotch eventually let himself out of Spencer’s hotel room, Spencer following to lock the door behind him. When all was said and done, he all but collapsed onto his bed, letting out the breath he had been holding.

There was a short laugh from in front of him.. Ashley was clapping slowly with a smirk on her face. “What a show. To believe it was free, ha!”

Spencer frowned, not understanding the meaning behind her words. In the few hours she was with him, she’s turned out to be strangely cryptic with her statements.

“What?”

“Look at it this way, genius. You’re mad that two of your teammates broke your trust. Okay. You have every right to. But, you broke everyone’s trust. They all know you’re nothing more than a crazy, lying, junkie.”

“Shut up!” He flung a pillow at her before he knew what he was doing. It hit the dresser the provided TV was residing on, but ultimately fell to the floor having caused no damage.

Ashley was full out laughing now, having been missed by the pillow although he could’ve sworn she was standing right in the pillow’s line of sight when he threw it.

“Hey, genius! Your boss is only a few doors down and these walls are thin! Who are you talking to?”

Spencer pushed his hands against his ears and curled into a ball.

He listened intently for a moment, waiting to hear footsteps coming toward him that he knew would be Hotch.

No one came.

Was it wrong to feel lonely when he wasn’t making an effort to reach out to any of them?

\--------

Maeve was dead.

Unlike Emily, Maeve wasn’t coming back.

She was killed right in front of him.

His body refused to move as he tried and failed to comprehend the sight in front of him.

Maeve and Diane's dead bodies, bleeding out, with a gun to the side.

People were standing behind them.

Spencer realized belatedly that his entire team was standing behind him so who was standing behind Maeve?

He looked up through blurry eyes to face three figures. Ashley, Gideon, and Elle in that order.

They were all glaring at him and shaking their heads, yet they remained quiet. Their arms were crossed and their body language was negative and judgemental.

He felt JJ and Blake’s hands on his back and biceps, slowly turning him around and leading him out of the warehouse. He had no fight left in him to resist.

Whoever was on his left side wasn’t careful enough and accidentally touched his gun wound, to which he left out a hiss of pain. “Sorry! I’m sorry.” Hearing her voice, he put it together Blake was on his left side and that meant JJ was on his right. He was trying to think of anything to possibly distract himself but his thoughts kept coming back to Maeve and how he failed her.

They led him to an ambulance to get him checked out, neither of them leaving his side.

Spencer was awake, but unresponsive, barely registering the EMT telling him he was lucky that the bullet just grazed his arm and his arm would heal quickly. His arm felt like dead weight as the EMT was bandaging his bicep. He completely stopped listening as the EMT was telling him what to do when it came time to clean and redress the wound.

The EMT realized Spencer wasn’t listening and turned to the ladies, who listened in his place. They would leave him a note with instructions later.

It was almost as if Spencer’s brain had completely shut off. For once, he wasn’t thinking. He wasn’t feeling. He was just numb with sadness.

He didn’t move, say anything, or look up from his shoes the entirety of the time he was sitting in that ambulance. JJ and Blake were beside him, but they said nothing. They knew no words would be able to fix what had happened.

He only looked up when he heard wheels rolling over the pavement. His fuzzy mind told him that wheels meant they were wheeling out a body and that Maeve was one of them.

Two body bags were rolled out, both zipped up. He couldn’t tell which one Maeve was in, but wasn’t given the time to dwell on it before JJ and Blake quickly hauled him up to leave. They had to transport their bodies to the hospital and he was sitting in one of the ambulances they needed to use. Of course the universe would find a way to torture him more.

They took him to one of the SUVs. They got him situated in the back seat and JJ sat down next to him. Blake hadn’t gotten in yet as she had gone to talk to Hotch, probably to be dismissed and to take Spencer home.

The SUV did its best to block out all of the sirens and chatter from everyone, but JJ only had ears for Spencer’s soft cries and sniffles. He looked so broken and she wanted nothing more than to just shield him, to make sure he was safe from the real world. He didn’t deserve to have this happen to him. They never do.

She hated feeling so helpless, so she tried something.

“Do you want a hug?”

Verbal consent was the key when it came to touching Spencer. Moreso when he was in an extremely fragile state.

He nodded his head and leaned toward her, letting her pull him towards her more. He buried his head in her neck and she whispered calming phrases in his ear, such as “Let it out.” and “I’ve got you.”

Spencer was so absorbed in his pain that he didn’t notice Blake getting in the driver’s seat or the looks she and JJ exchanged with each other.

JJ pulled away from Spencer, motioning to Blake to let her speak.

“Hotch dismissed us, so I’m going to take you home. Is there anything from the office you need?”

If there was, he didn’t care. He shook his head no. He just wanted to be alone.

“Okay.”

The sirens, ambulances, and government personnel and vehicles eventually faded from his line of sight. He saw Hotch, Morgan, and Rossi looking at the SUV he was in. Their stares held pity.

The rest of the ride was silent as Spencer stared out the window. JJ ran her hand up and down his back, trying to relay some comfort but she knew it wasn’t working. Blake kept looking back at him through the rearview mirror. She hated how miserable he looked. His cheeks were tear stained and his sniffles were audible. They weren’t prepared for when Spencer finally spoke.

“Thomas Merton. Born January 31, 1915 in France, died December 10, 1968 in Thailand. He was a Trappist monk, writer, theologian, mystic, poet, social activist, and scholar of comparative religion. He had written a number of books, the most notable being his autobiography he published at age 31, titled “The Seven Storey Mountain”. He also published books containing essays and books used as guides for spiritual speakers. He has many notable quotes, one being, “Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves alone - we find it with another.” Spencer let out a deep, shaky sigh, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and index finger. “That was the quote Maeve wrote in a book she gifted me. That was what she was telling me with her final breaths.”

JJ and Blake were left speechless. They didn’t know what to do with the information that was obviously deeply personal to Spencer. In the end, they came to an unspoken agreement to say nothing, even if JJ picked up the speed she was using to rub his back and Blake gripped the steering wheel harder, eyes darting back to Spencer more often.

Blake eventually pulled into the parking lot of his apartment complex and parked the SUV. All three passengers got out and they walked up to the entrance to the building. Blake held the door for Spencer and JJ who had her hand resting on his shoulder.

They walked in silence to his apartment. He pulled out his keys with shaky hands and struggled to open the door. Blake and JJ looked like they wanted to intervene but Spencer eventually got the right key in the lock. He turned the doorknob and walked into his empty apartment, JJ and Blake following.

“Do you want us to stick around for a minute? Help you get settled?” Blake asked, not wanting to leave Spencer alone.

He shook his head, much to the ladies’ dismay.

“No, you can both go home. You have families to be with. I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?” JJ’s body was screaming at her to not leave Spencer alone, that she needed to be by her side and help him through this, but she couldn’t force him. Their friendship had settled into a semblance of normal the past few months and she didn’t want to betray his trust again.

Last time she did, he relapsed.

That thought only made her more motivated to stay, but she had no such luck.

“Really. I’ll be fine. I’m just going to go lie down. You two should both get home.” He tried to smile, but the exhaustion coupled with the heavy pit in his stomach made it look more like a weary scowl.

Not wanting to push their boundaries, especially when it was clear he didn’t want them there, JJ and Blake nodded, saying their goodbyes, before leaving Spencer’s apartment and shutting the door behind them. They didn’t walk away until they heard the lock click.

They were feeling and thinking the same things, unable to do anything about it. They walked out of Spencer’s building together in silence, their younger friend ever present on their minds.

Spencer turned around after locking the door and came face to face with Ashley, Gideon, and Elle again.

Now he gets to add fear to his cocktail of emotions.

“This is just what I expected. You were too late and couldn’t save her.” Elle attacked first..

“Where have I seen that before?” Ashley sarcastically asked, looking off in the distance to look like she was thinking.

“She counted on you to save her. You didn’t. I could’ve sworn I taught you how to deal with a stalker turned kidnapper. Oh, that’s right. I did. What does that mean for you?” Gideon asked cruelly with a head tilt.

“I-It means I m-messed up. I w-wasn’t good enough.” Spencer was barely audible as he slid his back down the wall, head ending up in his heads and his body in a ball.

“That’s right, but then again we’ve known this for a while.” Gideon’s voice resounded loudly off his apartment walls, and he tried to drown it out by putting his hands over his ears, but to no avail.

“You know what this means, right?” He looked up to see the three of them suddenly standing in front of him, Elle in the center now, talking to him.

“Y-Yes.” He stuttered out but made no move to get up.

“Well then? Let’s get to it.”

“I c-can’t. I th-threw it all out.” He allowed himself to feel a little triumphant. Thanks to Hotch, he had kicked the drugs again a few months back. He dumped the tiny bottles down the toilet and threw the syringes in the trash, not looking back.

The expressions on their faces were all comprised of shock, then quickly morphed into disdain and anger. They looked evil. The triumphancy he was feeling quickly faded back into fear.

“Uh huh, sure. I wonder if Maeve knew you were a junkie.” 

His eyes narrowed at Ashley’s words.

“My guess is no, that it was something to save for the second date. Except, you never had a first one.” Ashley finished her statement, wickedness lacing her tone.

“Shut u-up.”

“No, no. I agree. I mean, what else did she not know about? She definitely didn’t know about us, did she?” Elle cackled. “You can’t hear a head twitch or shaky hands over the phone.”

Spencer shook his head, trying to block out their words with his hands. It wasn’t working.

“You’re lucky JJ and Alex are gone. You would definitely expose everything you’d worked so hard to keep hidden if they were still here. You’d probably be locked up.” Gideon claimed, his words venomous.

“Shut up!” Spencer grabbed the thing closest to him, a book, and chucked it in their general direction. He missed, ironically knocking over another stack of books on a table across the room.

He frantically stood up, raking his fingers through his hair as he moved to sit down on the couch, the trio following him.

“You claim you love Maeve. I’m not buying it. I think-” Elle sat down next to him. “-she was a distraction for you. And now that she’s gone, you’ve got no one to go to.”

He stood up again, walking to the side of the room to get away from her. 

“No, th-that’s n-not true.”

“Then why didn’t you say it back?” Gideon’s comeback was simple, but he knew exactly how and where to strike.

“Saving it for the first date, I assume? Well, there’s never going to be a first date, thanks to you. Your last words to her were that you loved someone else.”

“No, Thomas M-Merton. Sh-She knew w-what I meant.” He was losing himself in his fear and sadness.

Ashley scoffed. “You only talked for three months and never met each other in person. When you finally do, she dies. Open your eyes. You were nothing to her.”

“Shut up!” 

He grabbed a stray coffee mug on the coffee table and hurled it away, wincing when it shattered against a wall.

“You never loved her! She never loved you!”

He grabbed another book and threw it. It crashed into a bookshelf, breaking a shelf. The books fell onto his unfinished chess game alone on the side table.

Everything became a mixture of blurry motion and darkness after that. He vaguely remembered shouting and yelling from multiple people, damage, and tears.

Spencer woke up on the floor, his vision blurry and his hair covering his eyes. All he knew was he was in his apartment and the sun was rising. He didn’t even remember when he fell asleep.

There were golden rays of sun filtering through the room, enough to highlight some of the destruction he had caused.

Turning his head to the side, he could see books scattered everywhere. There were rumpled rugs and glinting pieces of broken glass on the floor.

He pulled his hands in to rub at his face when he felt something fall out of his hand and clank to the ground. His blood ran cold.

He reached out with his right hand and gripped it, pulling it toward him so he could see what it was.

It was a knife again. There was dried blood on it, like last time.

He instantly sat up, wincing at the unexpected pain coming from the side of his torso. He instinctively dropped the knife to place his hand there, remnants of blood coming off on his palm. The cut had stopped bleeding and had already appeared to be somewhat scabbing.

Spencer sighed, hating this feeling of deja vu, and stood up, using the wall as support.

He was able to see the rest of the damage caused to his apartment.

His couch and coffee table were moved, pages of books were ripped and strewn about the floor, and various lamps were unplugged and their lightbulbs were broken from likely being thrown.

He looked away, focusing on making his way to the bathroom to clean himself up like last time. His calf had scarred nicely, maybe his side would too. 

He was glad he was taking time off so he wouldn’t have to explain this to anyone.

They would never understand.

\--------

Spencer didn’t remember much from when he got shot in the neck.

He remembered Blake’s blurry face, her calling him Ethan, the ambulance ride and Morgan’s muffled voice before he woke up in the hospital with Garcia and Blake by his side.

When his head started to clear, he remembered Garcia wheeling him out into the hallway on a wheelchair and pulling the fire alarm but the reasons why flew over his head. He just wanted to rest.

He remembered the corrupt nurse trying to add something to his IV tube that wouldn’t be good for him and seeing his gun. There was a gunshot and Garcia started nervously rambling while he moved to disarm her. He didn’t know what had happened other than she saved his life.

He fell asleep on the jet, the lingering pain pushed to the back of his mind as he slept restlessly. Blake woke him up and took him home so she could properly say goodbye.

That was something he wasn’t prepared for.

Spencer didn’t regret taking that bullet for Blake. He was lucky, he survived, and Blake was alive because of his choice.

She said he reminded her of who her son would be if he was alive. Spencer wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Proud that he reminds her of her son? Or guilty that he reminds her of her son?

She already witnessed the death of her biological son. Witnessing the death of a surrogate son would be just as crushing, he supposes.

And just like that, she was gone, out of their lives. Out of his life. She left her credentials in his bag as something to remember her by.

He gets the same feeling looking at her credentials as he does Gideon’s letter.

He watches her leave his building and hail down a taxi from his window. She doesn’t look back once she gets in.

He closes the curtain and turns around, coming face to face with the woman who had just left him.

He sighed and walked past her, moving to take the over the counter pain medication that Blake had picked up for him on the way to his apartment.

“What, not even a hello? I thought our relationship was stronger than this.”

Spencer refused to look her in the eye as he moved to fill up a water glass. He was holding it tightly as he downed the medication.

“Fine. I know how to make you look at me.” He heard Blake’s heels coming toward him in his kitchenette. He rolled his eyes at her cockiness before he put the pills in his mouth, drinking water to swallow them.

“Have you ever noticed that the common denominator in people leaving you is you? My son’s name is Ethan. Your friend’s name from years ago is Ethan. Your mother’s name is Diana. Maeve’s stalker was named Diane. It’s too many coincidences to be a coincidence.”

Spencer was finishing off the water when it got caught in his throat and he started coughing and choking, sputtering water out of his mouth. Her statement caught him off guard and strangely hit him where it hurt.

“You feel lonely, yet you’re the one pushing everyone away.”

“S-Stop.” He coughed.

“You know I’m right. Everyone you love will leave you, if you don’t leave them first.”

His grip on his glass tightened.

“I wonder how you’ll go out. A gun to the head? Overdosing seems plausible, given your history.” She snapped her fingers as if she realized something. “No, I got it! Slitting your wrists!”

Spencer yelled in anger, throwing his glass at Blake. The glass shattered into tiny shards that scattered all over his kitchen floor. He was lucky he was still wearing shoes or else his feet would be bleeding from stepping on glass.

He was breathing heavily, his face flushed red from anger and embarrassment. He ran his hand through his hair, looking up to where Blake should be, only to find her gone.

His head twitched, his neck responding with pain.

He was not looking forward to his time off to heal.

\--------

Spencer drove up to the cabin, not wanting to go inside. He didn’t want it to be true. It couldn’t be true.

Against his mind’s wishes, he shut his car off and trudged in, seeing a body under a blanket and his team waiting for him.

Hotch confirmed his fears. “It’s Gideon.”

He didn’t want to deal with that meant and walked out, feeling eyes on his back but not hearing anyone follow him.

The porch creaked under his weight. He was about to walk down the steps and back to his car when he noticed Gideon standing in front of him.

Spencer hadn’t cried yet, but seeing Gideon there when Gideon’s body was under a tarp broke something within him and he was reduced to sobs and sniffles in a matter of moments.

He realized he was still in the doorway, so he moved to the side and leaned against the railing, letting his head hang low while he gazed at the cars in front of the house.

Gideon walked to be in his line and sight and snapped his fingers to get his attention.

“I’m hurt. You put on a bigger show for Emily and she wasn’t even dead.”

Spencer shook his head and looked to the ground.

“Go a-away.”

“You know that’s not happening, Spencer.”

His heart clenched. It had been so long since he heard the older man say his name, but it felt wrong.

Gideon was dead. The Gideon in front of him wasn’t real.

Nothing felt real anymore.

“Tell me what you’re thinking.”

“I d-don’t even know w-what I’m thinking because y-you’re dead and it doesn’t f-feel real and you sh-shouldn’t be talking to me.” Spencer started crying in the middle of his sentence.

“Not knowing what you’re feeling isn’t the same as feeling nothing at all.”

Spencer’s head shot up to see Gideon smirking at him. That was a low blow.

Spencer turned and walked away down the yard. He didn’t want to have to deal with this anymore. Gideon was dead and he wasn’t coming back.

Not everyone can cheat death.

“You can walk away all you want. It doesn’t change the fact I’m still here.” He turned behind him to see Gideon casually strolling behind him, hands in his pockets.

Spencer stopped and leaned against his car, knowing he wasn’t going to get out of what Gideon had planned.

“Do you know why I left the BAU?” Gideon asked and waited for an answer that Spencer did not provide. “I don’t know either. But maybe if I didn’t, I would still be here.”

Spencer couldn’t look the man in the eye.

“You’re still easy to profile after all this time. You feel guilty you’re alive and I’m not. Even when you had nothing to do with my death, you still find a way to make yourself suffer for it.”

“Why sh-shouldn’t I? You should b-be alive. Maybe i-if I didn’t push you away, you’d s-still be here, w-with us.”

Gideon shrugged.

“Maybe, but there’s no way to know now.”

Spencer looked up at Gideon, his eyes trailing to the doorway of the cabin. Morgan was walking out of the house. Him eyed him before walking towards him.

Spencer’s back stiffened.

“They’re worried about you. You know they’re not going to leave you alone much in this case.”

Spencer looked down once again.

“It’s amazing. They’re the best minds in this field, and yet, they don’t know about your dirty little secret.”

He could hear Morgan getting closer. Hotch must have an assignment for them.

“Soon, it’ll be too late to save you. They’ll wonder how they missed the signs, what they could’ve done differently. Well, what do you know? That’s exactly what happened to me. I left, and now I’m gone.”

Spencer’s breath hitched, a response ready on his tongue, but he never got the chance to say it as Morgan walked up to him.

He hastily wiped his face before turning to face his friend.

“I know you probably want to be alone, but I’m not going to let you shut us out.” That was all Morgan said as he moved to lean up against Spencer’s car with him.

The night shifted into day. The officials from the coroner’s office came in and wheeled Gideon’s body away. Gideon never left his side but Spencer refused to look at him.

As much as it hurt, he had to focus on the harsh reality that was in front of him.

Morgan slightly nudged his arm to get his attention and he motioned his head towards the SUV. Hotch wanted them to get the full report on Gideon from the Medical Examiner.

Spencer said nothing as he numbly walked to the passenger’s seat, all too aware of Gideon following him and getting in the backseat.

No words were exchanged on the drive to the ME. Morgan kept sneaking glances at his friend, hoping he would notice, his face flushing red before telling him to stop. No such thing happened. Spencer kept staring down at his hands in his lap.

Morgan didn’t know what to do, if there was anything to do.

Obtaining the reports from the Medical Examiner wasn’t much different. Spencer wouldn’t stop staring at the tarp. Morgan didn’t know if the kid listened to the doctor telling them how he died or if he was stuck in his own world.

“Did you hear any of that? He didn’t suffer.”

The tear that fell down Spencer’s cheek made Morgan’s heart hurt. He didn’t know how to fix it, if he even could fix it. All he could do was offer the best words of encouragement he had in that moment.

Morgan excused himself from the room, leaving Spencer behind with his mentor. Once the door clicked shut behind him, Spencer finally allowed himself to look up. Gideon was standing there. He started chuckling, which disturbed Spencer to his core.

“Derek really cares about you. It’ll be such a shame when he discovers the truth about you. I have to say, though-” Gideon moved to stand across from Spencer from the other side of the table. “The day your team discovers the truth, is the day you’re dead.” Gideon’s gaze trailed to the sheet hiding the body, Spencer’s following.

“I wonder where the blood on your body tarp will stain.”

Spencer’s fists clenched in his pocket.

He walked out of the room and met up with Morgan, still not saying anything, and walked out of the building.

He heard Gideon chuckling from behind him as the door closed.

\--------

Spencer always knew he wouldn’t survive in prison if he ever got arrested. He simply wasn’t equipped for it.

He recognized some of the other inmates’ faces. They were unsubs he had a hand in putting away. If anyone got their hands on the information he was a federal agent, he was in for a world of hurt bigger than he already was.

He tried to keep to himself as much as possible and not cause any trouble, but trouble follows him wherever he goes.

He had been beaten and made into a drug mule, to which he responded by poisoning the inmates who would take the drugs. He wasn’t sure if he regretted or enjoyed the feeling that came with proving they shouldn’t underestimate him.

Like most things nowadays, Spencer decided to not think about it and focus on staying alive.

He had made an ally of sorts. Calvin Shaw. The man had gotten him his own cell, his job in the laundry room, and some books.

He was thankful.

Until the man turned on him.

Spencer was expecting it. He refused to follow any of the advice Shaw would give him plus he was one of the ones poisoned with the contaminated stash.

Shaw did not appreciate Spencer playing by his own rules. He had been in there long enough to know how to work the system and use other prisoners to do his bidding. He w

Spencer knew he was screwed.

He had been seeing everyone around the prison during his time. Gideon, Elle, Ashley, Blake, Kate, Hotch, and Morgan.

He wondered if either of them knew he had been arrested. It would be more difficult to get a message out to Hotch since he was in Witness Protection, but if anyone knew anything about loopholes, it was his team. Morgan had left on his own accord, which means anyone could get a quick message to him.

He wasn’t sure he wanted them to know he had been arrested, either way.

He would see them anywhere and everywhere he was in the prison. It felt like they were always lurking in the corner of his eyes and peripheral vision.

They never said anything. It seemed their sole purpose was to make him feel more unsafe than he already was.

Someone different would be sitting with him in the cafeteria everyday. It’s not like he had anyone else to sit with. Everyone there hated him.

Elle was in his cell when guards and medical staff were running back and forth, trying to help the suffering prisoners. She was enjoying the show, smiling and trying to get him to watch the chaos. He could only sit with his head in his hands.

Morgan was in the laundry room when Luis was bleeding out in his arms. He fixed him with an empty stare and shoved his hands in his pockets. Spencer wanted to tell Morgan to help him, but then he was yanked away and shoved back into his cell.

Hotch was there when a memory told him he did stab and kill Nadie Ramos. He pounded on the door to be let out, not wanting to face Tara or Hotch. Hotch could always see right through him. He would be disappointed.

Ashley was there whenever he had a visitor. No matter who it was, she would always stand over their shoulder and stare right through Spencer. He always found himself afraid of what she could possibly do to them.

Gideon watched him as he quietly constructed a shank from the dull end of a toothbrush. He sharpened it to a fine point and tied it with some cloth to give it a place to grip. He made eye contact with Gideon, who appeared dissatisfied. Spencer discretely pocketed a fork the next day at the cafeteria. He snapped the prongs off and sharpened the dull end to a fine point easily as it was made from similar materials as the toothbrush. He tied another piece of cloth around it and pulled out his first shank. They were about the same size. He pocketed one of them, shoving the other one down his side, securing it in the waistband of his pants. He looked up at Gideon again. He was satisfied. Spencer turned over and tried to sleep.

Emily had come and told him his mom was kidnapped and that he was right about Lindsey. He was too physically and emotionally drained to give much of a response other than facts about her that would help further their profile on her.

She told him he had to try and isolate himself and he could’ve laughed if he didn’t feel so defeated. He had a plan to do so, but she wouldn’t like it. He pounded the door to be let out and escorted back to his cell, not turning back to face her or Kate who was standing behind her.

Of course Kate would be standing behind Emily. She had just become a new mother and Spencer had lost just his. His brain loves to make him hurt.

Later in the day, Spencer found himself in the cafeteria, Shaw eyeing him from the corner. There were flashes of color all round the room from his former teammates but he kept his eyes trained on Shaw. He knew what he had to do.

Shaw came over and sat in front of him.

“You’re gonna need to grow eyes in the back of your head because you’ll never see it coming.”

“I have a better idea.”

“What’s that?”

Spencer put his plan into action. He charged forward and lunged his shank towards Shaw, who grabbed his wrist in mid air to stop him. Spencer then grabbed both their wrists and plunged the weapon into his thigh. To add the icing on the cake, he cut his arm when Shaw wasn’t even touching the weapon anymore to really sell it.

The cafeteria was chaos. A guard lowered him to the ground while another apprehended Shaw. Elle and Ashley were acting like his own personal cheerleaders, cheering and clapping for him.

His second shank rested heavy on his hip as the guards escorted him to Solitary Confinement.

He was finally alone. With his thoughts. Never a good combination.

Spencer took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He was safe now, right? His leg and arm hurt a lot but that was the extent of it, right?

Oh, how wrong he was to hope.

When Spencer opened his eyes, they were all in his cell. The walls felt confining and he was struggling to breathe.

All seven pairs of eyes looked soulless as they stared through him. His fingers instinctively went to his pant leg, tracing the shape of the blade through the fabric.

“You want to do it. I can see it in your eyes.” Hotch spoke first.

“You’ve always been weak.” Morgan scoffed.

“And crazy.” Blake added on.

A tear slipped from his eye but he stayed put on his bench. The guards wouldn’t come if he yelled for help, and if they did, what would he even tell them?

“Why are you wasting our time? Do it. Get it over with.” Ashley demanded.

He tried to think of reasons not to, and one came to mind.

“My m-mother. I have t-to save h-her.”

They all started laughing. They sounded like a cacophony of nails on a chalkboard or forks scraping plates. Spencer shoved his palms over his ears out of instinct but already knew it would do nothing.

“Please. What can you do in here? She’s probably already dead.” Gideon laughed.

Spencer didn’t want to believe them, but what did he know? He was stuck in a box.

“My t-team…” He trailed off.

“It sounds to me like you’re prolonging the inevitable.” Kate mused. “Give up. She’s dead. You’ve got nothing left.”

“You’re exhausted, beaten, and becoming one of the people you’re supposed to hunt. We know you liked poisoning those inmates.” Elle added on.

“We’re looking for a caucasian male, aged between 30 and 40. He is a Paranoid Schizophrenic and very dangerous.” Hotch started stating as if it was Spencer’s profile. Spencer looked up at him, terrified. “He keeps to himself. He likely doesn’t understand social situations nor cues. He has likely been dealing with hallucinations for years, but recently his mental state has started to rapidly deteriorate, making him dangerous to himself and others. He may have hidden self harm scars, the result of a bad episode or a few. He may be a former or current drug addict. The drugs would’ve added to his instability and violent tendencies.”

Spencer curled back into himself. “Sh-shut up.”

“His trigger is the loss of a loved one.” Morgan continued as if Spencer hadn’t said anything. “His stressor would be his whole life, from his birth to now. He likely grew up in a one parent household and was the target of bullies all throughout school. Schizophrenia is genetic so at the least, one of his parents has it and passed it on.”

“He has tells, such as a head twitch or shaky hands. He also stutters when he talks to them.” Elle continued. “He thinks he can hide these and how he will never make eye contact anymore, preferring to look over their shoulder at the hallucinations he is seeing. He mumbles to himself when he thinks no one is listening.”

“There’s no telling how dangerous he is until we get a grasp on how dangerous his hallucinations are.” Ashley said. “He is listening to what they’re saying and losing his grip on reality. There’s no telling what he will do to please them.”

“Bottom line, he’s terrified.” Kate said. “He's terrified of his hallucinations and what they could do to him if he doesn’t go along with what they say. He’s tried to deny them before and he ended up with knife scars on his side. He feels he’s learned his lesson and doesn’t want to overstep his boundaries again.

“Each of his hallucinations is different, and his demeanor changes based on who is with him at that moment.” Blake said. “They are all likely other loved ones he’s lost. He thinks he is the reason everybody leaves him. Leaving him alone is a risk to himself and anyone near him. His hallucinations could tell him to do something crazy he knows he is capable of, such as harming or killing himself.”

“You really are easy to profile, Reid.” Gideon concluded.

Spencer was borderline hyperventilating, just wishing them all to stop and shut up. He was curled into himself in the corner of the room opposite from his bench. He didn’t remember moving but that wasn’t important to him.

The only thing on his mind was the makeshift blade slightly digging into his hip.

“We know you’re thinking about it.” Ashley said.

“Think of how much better the world would be, how much happier the team would be not having to put up with such a burden anymore.” Blake remarked.

“Your mother would never have to know what a disappointment you turned out to be. It’s not like she’ll remember you after you’re gone.” Morgan stated, his arms crossing over his chest.

Spencer shook his head, trying his hardest not to believe them, but it wasn’t working.

Someone walked closer to him, but he didn’t know who until he heard her speak.

“Take it.” Elle said.

Spencer didn’t take his eyes off her as he reached down his waistline and pulled out his shank with shaky hands.

“Use it.” Elle demanded.

Spencer swallowed harshly. He looked down at the white bandage on his arm and unwrapped it, revealing a shallow stab wound.

He hated how much he wanted to inflict more cuts onto himself, but he knew he wouldn't be able to stop himself.

“Do it.” Elle said.

“Do it.” Kate followed.

Soon enough, they were all chanting at him to do it. The walls looked like they were closing in on him and he couldn’t breathe. Spencer didn’t recognize the people standing in front of him anymore, nor their voices.

It was loud and suffocating and he just wanted it all to stop.

He could make it stop.

He had the power to make it all stop.

So he did.

He felt something warm and wet running down his forearms. He vaguely registered it was warm and dark red, darker than a rose.

The world suddenly went quiet in his ears.

Spencer looked up and scanned his cell, looking for her.

There was no one there.

Extreme loneliness coupled with a dash of fear were the last things his mind registered before his body relaxed and his eyes slipped shut. One simple phrase quietly slipped past his lips with his last breath.

“I’m sorry…”

Spencer was alone when Elle left him again.

**Author's Note:**

> The title is a lyric from the song "Ashes of Eden" by Breaking Benjamin.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Sorry if I hurt you emotionally!


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